Dear Hothead
by Shadowsammy
Summary: Paul is angry, so angry, and yet there is something inside of him is screaming for help. His friends, however, all hate him now. So Paul turns to the faceless Sk8ter Girl, who writes for "MeMail" at La Push High. He finds surprising wisdom and friendship in the shy girl who falls between the cracks at school. She, in turn, learns that his friendship is for life. Paul X OC
1. Prologue: Dear Sk8ter Girl

~Prologue~

Dear Sk8t3r Girl

_Dear, Dear Diary, I Want To Tell My Secrets,  
Cause You're The Only One That I Know Who'll Keep Them.  
Dear, Dear Diary, I Want To Tell My Secrets;  
I Know You'll Keep Them.  
This Is What I've Done._

_I've Been Down Every Road You Could Go.  
I Made Some Bad Choices, As You Know.  
Seems I've Got This Whole World  
Cradled In My Hands,  
But It's Just Like Me  
Not To Understand._

~_Dear Diary_, by Pink

Disclaimer: Me No Own; You No Sue.

* * *

**Paul's P.O.V.**

* * *

**To: Sk8ter Girl**

**From: Hothead**

**Topic: Friends?**

**Sent: 6:38 am**

* * *

_**Dear Sk8ter Girl,**_

_Um, I really haven't done this kind of thing before, so…_

_My name is, uh, Hothead? Yeah, Hothead! I'm nineteen, attractive, pretty tall for my age – er, any age, really – and I like to play football. 'Cuz I'm pretty strong and buff and – did I mention that I'm attractive? You've probably seen me around at school, hanging out with all of the hot chicks. Yeah, I know, I know! What would somebody like __**me **__need from somebody like __**you?**_

_**No!**__ Wait, wait, wait! That came out wrong! Really, really, __**really **__wrong! I didn't mean it like __**that**__ because – hey, I don't even really __**know**__ you, right? How could I make assumptions like that when I have no idea who you are? Not that you're not important! I just – fuck, I feel like I'm digging myself deeper and deeper into this hole. You probably want to click out of this email now. Just give me a chance! I…__**really **__need somebody to just…hear me out, okay?_

_My friend (let's call him __**Boy Toy, **__since you probably can't print __**Asshole, **__though it would be funny if you could) is pretty pissed right now. He likes to mess me up and poke fun at all of the stuff that I do wrong, which I'm man enough to admit is loads of stuff. I've got a really horrible temper, for example, but I'm pretty sure you already know that, right? I mean, you __**must **__know me? Not __**know **__me, know me, because that would be pretty weird, but…_

_Dammit! You know what I mean! Just…give me some advice, okay? He's already tried to beat me up to make himself feel better, but I couldn't let him get away with that when the rest of the…uh, __**gang**__…was watching. So I gave it right back to him! Kinda kicked his ass, too…_

_Fuck. My friends all hate me. Fists aren't working anymore. What do I do?_

_**Sincerely,**_

_**Hothead**_

* * *

Paul paused, quickly skimmed through the message again, and inhaled sharply through his flared nostrils. He closed his onyx eyes, slowly counted to ten, and then...

SEND.

* * *

***Author's Note***

Something that I dreamt about last night! After another argument with the Pack, Paul caves in and writes to the "**Dear Sk8ter Girl Column**" in search of help, perhaps another way to let out all of his pent up anger. He find surprising wisdom, and much more, in the shy girl that writes from the safety of her bedroom. **Who is this girl, though?** We find out more about her in the **next chapter**. ;)

P.S. Please **read and review!** I know it is short, but I would love to hear what you all think! Any guesses who **Boy Toy** is? Write it up in a review!


	2. Chapter 1: Dear Hothead

~Chapter One~

Dear Hothead

_World's Got A Funny Way Of Turning 'Round On You,  
When A Friend Tries To Stab You Right In The Face!  
Losing Faith In Everything I Thought I Hoped I Knew._

_Betrayed, But Not Gonna Be Willing To Change,  
And It Doesn't Seem Likely To Fade.  
'Cause You Know… _

_You'll Hurt Again._

~_False Pretense_, by the Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

Disclaimer: Me No Own; You No Sue.

* * *

**BEEP!**

**You've got mail! **** :)**

Sleepily, I released the keyboard – which I'd been happily hugging in my sleep – and rubbed at the waffle design etched into my pale skin; it burned. I blinked stupidly at my computer, rolled forward, and left clicked the mouse, waiting for the blackened computer screen to light back up. I swiftly moved it back and forth, disgruntled with its sluggish pace, and then stiffened when it suddenly whirred back to life. My eyes squinted against the sudden flash of bright light, but I just rubbed the sleep out of the corners and blinked at the screen, quickly reading through the newest email. New friend! Yay!

Huh. Speaking of friends…

"**Fuck. My friends all hate me. Fists aren't working anymore. What do I do…?"**

After finishing the short paragraphs, though, which made me angry and sad and tons of other emotions I attributed to the hormones induced by being on my period, I glared at the screen, my mouth pursed with displeasure. My eyes quickly scanned the message again, making certain that I'd read it right and that I did not read between the lines. Nothing was out of sorts, though; I'd read everything just like Hothead had written it! Damn! How could somebody be that mean? To their friend, too! It was…was…unreal!

_GOD! People just make me so…so…_

_GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!_

Frustrated, I breathed in and started typing out my response right away. It was pretty early, yeah, and I really needed to finish getting ready for school, but I wanted to write him back while all of these emotions were real, fresh, and true. Guiding my words, you know? Because Hothead deserved to know what I really thought! He _wanted_ to know what I thought! He needed…

He needed somebody to **listen** to him.

I smirked. _And I'm your girl!_

* * *

**To: Hothead**

**From: Sk8ter Girl**

**Topic: Screw 'em! :D**

* * *

_**Dear Hothead,**_

_Friends…_

_**That**__ is a pretty tricky subject!_

_Well, hmm. This is the part where I __**could **__lie and claim that friends never mean you any real harm by being so mean. That, however, would be __**lying**__, and I don't really like to lie. But if I __**borrow**__ your skateboard and accidentally __**break **__it, then yeah – I might spin an itty bitty tall tale to get out of trouble. Moral of the story? Don't loan me your skateboard! ;P _

_The truth of the matter, however, is that friends are __**supposed**__ to be there for you. You've been arrested and tossed in jail? No problem, Dude! A good friend will be there to post bail for you. A best friend, though – He'll be right there with you, cheerfully bumping your shoulder with his, and laughing, "YES! That was really fun! Let's do it again!" _

_**That **__is the kind of friend that I try to be. Not that I'm a criminal! But I, well…I like to__** be **__there for the people that I love, you know? Family, friends, classmates; I want people to know that I'm somebody to count on when the goin' gets tough and the tough get goin'. Mister __**Boy Toy**__ (ha – funny name) might not be there for you at the moment, but I am! You can count on me to listen! :)_

_Your friend, though? Yeah, I guess what I'm getting at is that __**yours**__ seems to have missed the memo! Friends are supposed to __**help **__**you out.**__ Not __**beat you **__**up**__! Provoking you and then getting pissed off when __**you**__ snap and lash out at him, too? You had to defend yourself! No one else did! :( Everyone seems to take his side all of the time, too, which is pretty mean and stupid, if you're asking me! Which you are… ;) _

_Anyway! I want to offer this bit of advice before I sign off! Your friend is pissed. He's angry and giving you the cold shoulder because you've beaten him up, right? (You kicking his ass and wiping the floor with it __**might**__ be part of the problem, but eh, I'm a girl. What do I know?) Well, I hate to be the bearer of __**Bad News**__ (not really; it's actually lots of fun!), but it was pretty much __**his fault**__ that you went and lost that infamous temper of yours! If __**I **__know you, which I do, then that, uh, "friend" should definitely know how you work and operate. You're bound to lose it eventually. What part of __**infamous temper **__did __**Boy Toy **__miss? _

_Man! Who's the __**real **__dumbass here, eh? Certainly not you! ;) _

_**Sincerely Yours,**_

_**Sk8ter Girl**_

* * *

"Time for school, Sammy…!"

"Okay!" I called back, leaning forward in my seat and hastily typing in the information for the categories of _To,_ _From,_ and _Topic. _Once I'd typed in Hothead, then my own username, a wicked smile overcame me and I summarized what I thought of his plight in the last line – _Screw 'em. _

_Hope this helps you out, Hothead! _I paused, biting my cheeks with apprehension, and then clicked SEND.

"IF YOU'RE NOT DOWN HERE IN FIVE SECONDS, SAMMY, I'LL HIDE YOUR WII…!"

"DAMMIT, I'M COMING, SETH!" I bellowed through the closed bedroom door, slamming it open and then stomping down the stairs that headed from the attic to the bottom floor. My feet gracelessly hopped down the steps, automatically skipping the last step; it creaked loudly when someone stepped in the middle of it.

Seth, as your typical pervert, read far too much into these words and guffawed obnoxiously, "WAY TOO MUCH INFORMATION, SAMMY!"

"SHUT UP, ASSHOLE!" I snarled back and stomped toward the refrigerator, yanking the door open without further ado. My ratty old backpack, with pictures of Charizard printed to its front, slipped further down my shoulder when I bent down to rummage in the refrigerator. Irritated, I hefted it higher up, chomped into the apple that I picked out from the otherwise empty crisper, and sourly muttered, "Damn, I hate school…"

Seth entered the kitchen and helped himself to a cold piece of pizza, leftovers from the takeout ordered last night. He burped loudly upon completely demolishing the last bit of pepperoni and smirked at me when I turned to stare at him, eyebrows raised in amusement. My brother stared back at me, green eyes glittering with laughter, his smile wide and unrestrained. _Uh-oh…_

"You ready to head out for another wonderful day of school, Wheels?"

"…fuck you…"

* * *

***Author's Note***

**Thanks** for the favorites and follows! I wanted to update quickly since the prologue was so short, but I will not update again until I get a couple of reviews, okay? I'm holding **Paul,** who is supposed to show up again next chapter, hostage until I get 'em! So...

**...Five reviews, please?**

*Puppy Dog Eyes*

P.S. HAPPY NEW YEAR! :D


	3. Chapter 2: Paul the Pervert

~Chapter Two~

Paul the Pervert

_I'll Never Forget the Blood, Sweat, and Tears,  
The Uphill Struggle Over Years,  
The Fear and Trash Talking._

_Heart Full of Pain.  
Head Full of Stress.  
Handful of Anger,  
Held In My Chest._

_Blood, Sweat, and Tears._

~_Nobody's Listening_, by Linkin Park

Disclaimer: Me No Own; You No Sue.

* * *

**Paul's P.O.V.**

* * *

Bored, Paul wandered through La Push High, uninterested in speaking with his so-called _friends, _who were all too busy making fun of his _little temper tantrum_ to listen to anything that came out of his mouth. He wanted to say sorry, and to apologize for losing his temper, but no one would give him the **fucking chance. **

Speaking of fucking…

A small frown marred his lips when Paul realized that not even a good fuck could probably take his mind off of everything. With that in mind, Paul inhaled, annoyed with his sudden change of heart, and sourly walked right by the courtyard, where the cheerleaders – Barbie and Co. – usually gathered in the mornings. He didn't wanna talk to anyone! Nope!

Okay. Paul lied. He wanted to talk to Sk8ter Girl, but…

Did Sk8ter Girl bother to respond to him?

_Only one way to find out!_

School did not start until eight o' clock, and his watch informed him that the time was about fifteen after seven. So Paul hesitantly headed off to the school library, a place that Paul did not, uh, usually visit. He could borrow one of the computers, log in, and check his email; however, it would probably be nothing important. Something from his Mom, maybe, informing him that her shift would be running late. Again…

A sigh whistled from between his lips. What Paul really didwant to see would probably not be there until sometime tonight, almost twelve fucking hours from now! His own message was not sent to Sk8ter Girl until late last night – or, uh, this morning – because Sam forced him to run an extra patrol. Hopefully, though, Paul would have a response. He needed help. Now!

"Come again, Mr. Lahote?" Mrs. Kane asked, her voice reaching a pitch that hurt his rather sensitive ears, no small feat for the normally soft spoken librarian. "You actually want to…?"

Scowling, Paul growled under his breath and clenched his fists, which made the stunned librarian flinch and back off, the polite smile falling from her tan face. He tried to calm himself and then slowly reiterated, "I would like…to use…a…_computer._"

Stumped, Mrs. Kane raised her eyebrows and eyed him with confusion, as if this request made no sense – which, to her, it really did not. Paul Lahote was in the – HER – library? He wanted to be productive, instead of chasing skirts and beating his friends up? He wanted to…**learn? **

**ERROR.**

DOES NOT COMPUTE…!

"Computer…?" Paul pinched the bridge of his nose and growled through his frustration. "…that big screen with lots of pretty pictures?"

A chill crawled down her spine when Paul growled low in his throat, clearly unnerved by this display of his infamous temper. She quickly directed him to an open cubicle, which housed the computer, and shakily informed the teen that his time would end in thirty minutes. Paul nodded absently and then quietly thanked the older librarian, something that seemed to further shock her. A thank you? From THE Paul Lahote? **Mind Fuck!** No one expected him to be polite – _ever_ – and always thought that Paul wanted something if his manners made themselves known. So what if Paul wanted to use 'em, though? His mother raised him right!

He paused momentarily, thought of his (rather well known) reputation for sleeping around, and winced, actually feeling kind of ashamed of himself. _Dude, Mom would be __**pissed**__ if anybody told her just what I'd been up to all those nights I had the house to myself…_

Pulling his too small chair closer to the too small desk, Paul directed his attention to the sleeping computer, his elbows hanging off the side of the desk. He swiftly entered his username and the password, double clicked the Internet Explorer icon, waiting impatiently for it to load. A scowl returned to his lips when Paul dropped his forehead to rest against the wooden desk, handsome expression darkening with irritation as a groan escaped his lips. It…was…too…damn…_slow!_ _**Grrr!**_

**DING!**

**You've got mail! :)**

His head shot up. Dark black eyes were instantly locked to the screen. Right there, at the top of his Inbox, was a simple sentence in black text. _You have a new email from_ _**Sk8ter Girl. **_A wide smile swiftly claimed his dark lips, which had been pursed in annoyance not moments before. Paul chuckled. He could not believe it! She **answered** him! _YES!_

Heart thudding, Paul clicked the email right open and promptly burst out laughing, too stunned to do much of anything else. He clutched at the edge of the desk, keeping himself upright, but could not stop himself from letting out another peal of laughter. Mrs. Kane shushed him and Paul sheepishly complied, his chest still rumbling with amusement and hands wiping tears of laughter from his dark eyes.

_Oh, boy…_

* * *

**To: Sk8ter Girl**

**From: Hothead**

**Topic: Not Gay, Honey ;)**

**Sent: 7:51 am**

* * *

_**Dear Sk8ter Girl,**_

_Screw 'em? I wish…! NOT! I'm really not into gay sex! In fact, I am not an ass man at all; I'm more partial to breasts – __**BIG ONES. **__What cup size are you? Just kidding! ;)_

_Best friends are supposed to understand and help you? HA! As if! I'm calling bullshit! You are really fucking hilarious, though. Pretty naïve, too! What drugs are you on and, better yet, where could I get some? You deal? Good Marijuana is hard to find around these parts!_

_Seriously, though, I could only wish that someone so cool and trustworthy existed. A friend that would __**be **__there for me? A friend that would smile and laugh __**with **__me and not __**at**__ me? If you've got friends like that to have your ass all the time, then I'm fucking jealous – especially if it's a cute ass. Mmm hmm, I bet it is, too! ;)_

_Okay! You're probably getting pissy and glaring at the screen. I should probably stop now, especially since I wanted to say something else, too. It's just…_

…_Damn. This is hard. You know, I'm hoping that saying this will not make anybody think I'm a pansy or something. You're pretty cool, though, and I trust you, so…_

_**Thanks.**__ Your words really helped cheer me up. My life has been shit lately between, er, __**work **__and friends (who don't exist anymore) and not seeing my mom around too much. She works late because of her nursing career. What about you? Do you spend time with your mom? You seem more of the Daddy's Girl Type. ;)_

_**Sincerely, **_

_**Hothead**_

* * *

"…Paul?"

"Why are **you **in here?"

Ears pricking at the familiar voices, Paul whirled around to stare, admittedly quite stunned, into the dumbfounded faces of The Three Stooges: Jacob, Quil, and Embry. _Seriously, Taka Ahi?_ He could understand **Embry** hanging out in the library – the fucking idiot_ was_ a virgin – but Jacob and Quil? What the fuck?

Cheeks red with embarrassment, Paul narrowed his eyes at the snickering buffoons and darkly growled, "Right back atcha, Dumb and Dumber!" His eyes darted toward Embry and another snarl ripped itself from his throat. He sneered at the quieter Shifter and taunted, "You need to escort _Princess Alice_ to the library?"

"You know, Alice was a normal girl – not a princess – that fell into another world, Paul," Jacob slowly said, his tone arrogant, and mocking, and completely JACOB BLACK. Ugh!

Skin prickling with fury, Paul jumped to his feet and glared down at him, disgusted that the supposed Alpha – a masculine position, really – knew that much about _Alice in Wonderland_. He snorted in derision and growled, "You're a motherfucking faggot, Black…"

Darkly, Jacob glared into his onyx eyes and scowled in annoyance. "You must really want your ass –"

"Why're you so interested in my ass, eh?"

"…I'M NOT FUCKING GAY, PAUL…!"

"What…?" Paul innocently said, pretending to clean out his ears, and loudly repeated, "You said you're fucking gays?"

"BOYS, THE LIBRARY IS A PLACE FOR PEACE AND QUIET!" Mrs. Kane hypocritically yelled, and pointed her finger the front entrance to the library, her brown eyes narrowed in irritation. **"NOW** **GET OUT!**"

Paul, Jacob, Quil, and Embry complied, albeit with much grumbling, and shuffled out the doors, which closed immediately following their sudden departure. Paul turned to growl at them all but stopped short, eyebrow twitching in amusement upon noticing that Embry stared rather sadly at the closed doors. Jacob raised his eyebrow at his friend, who kicked the dirt and muttered, "I really wanted to check out _Catching Fire…_"

"You just have some weird kink for Jennifer Lawrence," Quil laughed, his expression cheerful, like always. He turned around to slap his friend in the shoulder, making it seem manlier that Paul thought possible for someone of his questionable nature. Claimed to like girls and all, but…

"No, Quil," Embry dryly said, reaching out to smack the shorter and stockier Shifter in the back of the head, "**YOU** have the kink for Jennifer Lawrence."

"And **I've** had enough," Paul snarled, sick and tired of The Three Stooges. He slammed his clenched fist into the brick wall behind their heads, hearing it crack but not feeling any pain, and opened his mouth to berate the idiots, when –

"WOO! MAKE WAY, PEASANTS! TOTALLY COOL PERSON COMING THROUGH…!"

Everybody jumped back, purely out of instinct, and slammed themselves into the wall of lockers at their sides, staring down at the raving lunatic with wide eyes. She was small, with white skin and freckles painted down her nose, a cute but homely look for her. Blue eyes were rimmed with purple eyeliner, to match her purple t-shirt and hoop earrings, and bright with happiness. Her black sneakers, tied with purple shoelaces, were glued firmly to her skateboard, which bolted, jumped, and screeched down the hallway. People jumped out of her way, screaming loud obscenities at her, but Paul paid it no mind, too busy trying to figure something out.

You see, something about that skateboard made his eyes narrow in thought, but Paul couldn't quite place it…

"MOVE IT OR LOSE IT, DUMBASS!"

Could it be…?

_Nah…_

* * *

***Author's Note***

Yay! **Paul** is here and full of witty words! :D

**Thanks** for all of the awesome reviews, favs, and alerts! **You're all amazing. ;) **

Hope you all enjoy the funny email and conversations in this chapter, too. This story will be **lighthearted**, for the most part, with the occasional bit of angst. I do think that this will be funnier than most of the stuff I write. If you've read and enjoy **Picking Up the Pieces**, then you'll like this one! There is more coming your way, if you'll review!

**Fifteen reviews, and I'll update! Deal? Deal! **:)


	4. Chapter 3: Sammy the Scientist

~Chapter Three~

Sammy the Scientist

_You're Selling Me A Fantasy that I Wanna Explore.  
It Sounds So Good; Spoil Me Rotten to the Core._

_Sell Me Candy, Sell Me Love;  
Sell Me Heaven, Sell Me Doves.  
What's the Charge?  
What's the Cost?_

_Talk to Me._

~_Sell Me Candy, _by Rihanna

Disclaimer: Me No Own; You No Sue.

* * *

**Sammy's P.O.V.**

* * *

"MOVE IT OR LOSE IT, DUMBASS!"

Everyone swiftly made for the lockers that lined the hallways in red and white stripes, leaping aside to avoid the skateboard that I maneuvered through the hallways like Tony Hawk. 'Cause Tony Stark went out to launch! Ha, ha! Get it? Out to Launch? I jumped down the short set of stairs and easily skirted around the corner, moving farther and farther from the library, where I almost mowed down half of La Push's Steroid Studs: Paul Lahote, Jacob Black, Embry Call, and Quil Ateara. _Oops?_

People called out what sounded like obscenities, but I could not hear most of it, too intent upon jamming out to the music blaring from the headphones at my ears. Hummed the lyrics to _Scream _by Usher – "_I try to fight it, to fight it, but you're so magnetic, so magnetic!_" – while I cheerfully zipped down the halls, (intentionally) aiming for people and (unfortunately) missing when no one stayed still long enough to be run over.

It was kind of like playing Frogger!

Yay!

Pouring another mouthful of Skittles into my mouth, I zoomed into the classroom and skidded to my assigned seat. I placed the skateboard – black with white stars – against the wall nearest the window and started unpacking stuff for AP Chemistry. My Sony Headphones dropped into my old backpack, followed by the half full (uh, half empty, if you're really pessimistic) package of Skittles. In exchange for these deposits, I removed Pixie Stix, two mechanical pencils, and the heavy textbook that I was _supposed _to study last night but uh, _mysteriously overlooked._ A pair of safety goggles soon joined the mess – er, organized clutter.

_Chemistry! _Hugging the flasks, I happily kissed the glass and blissfully sighed: _Oh, how I love thee, Chemistry…_

Someone dropped to the seat beside mine, interrupting the love session I imagined myself to be having with the lovely science equipment in front of me. He slurped down another sip of coffee – _hot chocolate is__** so**__ much better_ – and then cursed vividly when the hot liquid spilled down his muscular front. His short cropped hair seemed to stand straighter and his shirt stretched under the pressure of moving around that quickly; it looked ready to pop open! Like the Hulk!

YEAH! AVENGERS ASSEMBLE…!

"Shit! Kim is going to be upset," Jared Cameron – because Bruce Banner could not make it to class, it seemed – growled low in his throat, before wiping hurriedly at his shirt with his large hands and muttering something about Taka Ahi. _Who…?_

Wordlessly, I handed him the napkins under my collection of variously colored Pixie Stix, to which Jared smiled briefly in relief and apparent thanks. He hurriedly wiped the coffee from his mouth, neck, and chest, taking the time to try and clean it from his red shirt. Not that I watched! Nope! Not little ol' me! That, Ladies and Gentlemen, would be undoubtedly creepy.

Did I look like a creeper to you?

…_Never mind…_

"Thanks, Sarah," Jared started, his (not) sexy smile wide and filled to the brim with lots of good, strong, white teeth. Damn! _Someone _flossed and brushed his teeth at least twice everyday! Wonder what the ol' Tooth Fairy thought of Mister Jurassic Park_?_

Ripping my eyes off of his chest and teeth, which I did **not **just spend five minutes grinning at, I glanced off to the side, fidgeting nervously. I silently prayed to God that Jared did not notice me staring at him like Gollum while petting the One Ring. _My precious…!_

Glaring halfheartedly at him, I whined in protest of this commonly made mistake – Sarah, Amanda, and Samantha apparently sounded too much alike – and stubbornly insisted, "It's Sammy!"

"…Whatever, Sam-I-Am!" Jared proclaimed, before dismissively waving his left hand at me. Moving to capture mine – _what the fuck _– with his, Jared dropped the used napkin into my open palm, smirking when I stared dumbly at it. "Really don't want people to think I'm doing drugs, though…"

Yikes! White powder glittered within the pores of the newly brown napkin. Worriedly, I pointed to the mess of crystallized candy, swallowed the rest of it to prove a point, waved the papers around in his totally beautiful face, and blushingly protested, "Pixie Dust! I swear to Mahal that it's Pixie Stix Dust!"

Mister Devil-May-Care only shrugged at my misery. He smirked, leaning back in his chair until it creaked in protest, and laced his hands behind his head, closing his brown eyes in the prefect display of nonchalance. "Sure thing, Tinker Bell…"

"Bite me!" I muttered too low for him to hear, my annoyance overcoming any and all boundaries formed by the military upbringing that dictated most of what I did – and did not do – at school. _Curse at people in the hallways?_ Totally acceptable! _Run people over with skateboards?_ Sounds fun! _Be mean or unnecessarily disrespectful to people? _ Not so much…

Surprisingly, Jared **did **hear and could only stare at me, a strangely amused expression glued to his handsome face. "Who'd have thought the little Chihuahua would bark back at _me?_" Jared laughingly questioned the – _hello_ – **empty desk** at his side. What the H-E-Double Hockey Sticks?

_Gasp! JARED SEES DEAD PEOPLE!_

"Is there a problem here, Mister Cameron?"

_ARE YOU DEAF?! YES! __**JARED **__SEES __**DEAD PEOPLE!**_

Mr. Anno sauntered down the aisle to Jared, taking in the suddenly innocent smile that crossed his lips, and pointed his empty test tube – first at Jared, who calmly stared back at him, and then me. Narrowed his eyes when I fidgeted wildly under his scrutiny and bounced around in my seat, blushing terribly. He queried, "Problem, Miss Steel?"

_Other than the fact that Jared is acting like Chloe Saunders and/or Mercy Thompson…?_

"'Course not! Good friends just like to chit-chat all the time, Mr. Anno! Right, Jared…?" I hurriedly lied – uh, explained – and then smiled nervously at the pair. Judging by the wickedly devious gleam in their chocolate stares, however, my words obviously smelled of bullshit; I was probably knee deep in it right about now…

"Excellent!" Mr. Anno declared with glee, smirking at the white powder that still clung to my pink lips, which parted in horror at his next words – "Then you won't mind working with Jared for the rest of the semester to help him bring his grade up to standard, I take it?"

"…Of course not, Sir…" I finally sighed, reaching out to pick two science worksheets and then shove the second to Jared, since the muscular teen did not yet have one. He smugly slapped the dirty, crinkled sheet under his large hand and scribbled down our names. **_Jared Cameron & Samantha Steel._**

…_I thought that Jared didn't know my name…_

"Please take out your assignments, goggles, and head to the lab, then!" Mr. Anno called out and walked off, distributing the stack of science worksheets to the rest of the class.

"Hook, line, and sinker," Jared whispered, reaching out to slap the hand of the student walking next to him, who grinned widely at his taller classmate in return. "No work for me! 'Cuz I snagged the nerdy girl for lab partner! Yes!"

Great! I'd been suckered! Groaning, I slowly sank back into my seat and burrowed into the jacket that I brought to school, making it difficult to see anything other than the frizzed blonde hair peeking out from beneath the worn out collar. I sighed, slipped the dusty goggles over my eyes, and wandered down the hallway toward the lab, halfheartedly inhaling my remaining Skittles. Before eating the Pixie Stix, though, I paused in consideration, a wicked smile lightening my weary expression.

Maybe I could blow Jared Cameron up in the chemistry lab?

_Hmm…_

* * *

"Pass the salt, Casper!"

Eyebrow twitching, I reached for the labeled container of salt and started to hand it off to the irritating teenager that continued to blunder through the rest of the science experiment without safety goggles and little common sense. I hesitated at the last second, however, and decided to dump the last bit of Pixie Stix into an empty container. Couldn't tell the difference, either! Pleased, I promptly handed it to the oblivious and arrogant idiot: Jared "Draco Malfoy" Cameron.

**BOOM!**

* * *

**To: Hothead**

**From: Sk8ter Girl**

**Topic: HYPER :)**

**Sent: 9:17 am **

* * *

_**Dear Hothead, **_

_BWAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh, God! Holy Hell! I can't __**BREATHE!**__ It hurts too much! Why? Why are you up and doing this to me? You said…! You __**totally **__said…! HA! You said, "THIS IS HARD!"_

_You know what, Dude? _

_**THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID! XD**_

…_Okay! Yeah, I'm good. We're good. It's all good! Back to the matter at hand, though, I really think you're being kind of harsh and cynical. Life sucks, I guess, since nobody gets out alive, but really? Friends aren't extinct! Endangered, maybe, but still alive and kicking! You need to look harder – __**snicker, **__harder, __**snicker **__– for someone who totally understands you! Your temper is only part of the whole Hotheaded Package. (NOT __**THAT **__PACKAGE EITHER, MISTER PERVERT!) You, Hothead, also have quite the brilliant sense of humor! ;) _

_Me? Do __**I **__deal drugs? My lab partner certainly thinks so! (He and I don't exactly see eye-to-eye on most things, though…) Nevertheless, I have only one way to respond in the face of these overwhelming accusations – YOU HAVE NO PROOF, FUCKERS! MWAHAHAHAHA!_

_P.S. Sorry! I'm eating Skittles & Pixie Stix. Candy makes me super, amazingly hyper. :)_

_P.P.S. I'll write more when I'm home again! Too busy making stuff explode in Chemistry! Like my partner! Woohoo~!_

_**Sincerely Yours,**_

_**Sk8ter Girl**_

* * *

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Jared roared, his hair dripping wet with red, black, and brown slime.

"My bad, Jared," I cheerfully said, hiding the smile in my eyes under long locks of golden hair, and sweetly explained, "Mind's kinda fuzzy from all the drugs and shit. It looked like salt, but then again, Pixie Stix can easily be confused with other stuff…"

_Mission Objective: Make Jared Cameron Explode Literally __**and**__ Figuratively. _

"DAMMIT, CASPER…!"

**Mission Cleared. **

* * *

***Author's Note***

Hey! **Thanks for the reviews, alerts, and favorites! ** You're all Awesome Possum! :D

Did everybody like the more in depth introduction to Sammy? She's shy but does bite back when harassed by idiots, like Jared. Her temper can, and occasionally will, rival Paul's badass self. Paul is, as expected, hotheaded (thus his nickname) and adept at cursing. He is more sensitive and observant in this story, though. Hope that doesn't bother anybody! :)

**Important P.S. ** Update at **20 reviews!** If you're nice enough to review, **please answer a question for me:** _ Are you all opposed to Sammy and Paul talking in Chat? It wouldn't happen often, but I don't want to include that in the story if it bothers you all. _**Please let me know because the next chapter depends upon your answers.** Thanks! :)


	5. Chapter 4: Friend VS Foe

~Chapter Four~

Friend VS Foe

_I Have A Knack for Perceiving Things.  
I Can See How It Sounds; I Can Feel How It Sings.  
When You Paint Me An Image of Who You Are,  
I Know It's the Best, By Far._

_Is This Fiction Reality?_

~_Don't Mess With Me, _By Poets of the Fall

* * *

**Paul's P.O.V.**

* * *

"School sucked."

His announcement went unanswered, flying through the house at warp speed and then falling flat when his mother did not burst into laughter. He carefully listened for her – her cheerful laughter, which remained boisterous in spite of her long hours, and her dainty footsteps sluggishly sliding down the carpeted floor – but could not make out any signs of life. Instead, Paul could hear only silence, and scowled darkly at his feet.

Kicking off his sneakers, Paul sighed in defeat, knowing that his Mom would not be home 'til much later, and headed off to his usual haunt – The Kitchen. Yeah, Paul capitalized it! So what? His Mom said that growing boys needed to eat! So Paul went straight for the refrigerator, where several pounds of hamburger meat awaited his eager eyes and furiously growling stomach. He carried the meat to the stove and went about preparing several juicy hamburgers, thick and spiced with salt, pepper, and paprika. Mustard, too.

_Mmm!_ Paul closed his eyes in pleasure. _Tastes like Heaven! _

Of all the possible hobbies in the world, what Paul liked best was cooking. He did it well, too, and always made enough for leftovers, sticking 'em in the fridge 'til his Mom could be home to eat it. She appreciated the gesture immensely, given her exhaustion from running around all damn day long, and called him her little Chef Boyardee. Not that anybody knew that little secret; Paul'd have to kill anybody who called him by that ridiculous nickname. Bury 'em sixteen fucking feet under and –

**DING!**

**You've got mail! :) **

He blinked. Whirling around, Paul darted toward his laptop, which rested atop the kitchen table, lid wide open and ready for use. Sounded desperate, yeah, but Paul could not _stand_ the thought of missing her reply. Sk8ter Girl promised to answer and given that this would be his first night off in months, it would suck to not be able to respond to her again 'til later – Paul glanced at the clock and sighed – this evening.

Eight o' clock and his Mom still wasn't home…

* * *

**To: Sk8ter Girl**

**From: Hothead**

**Topic: Chill Pills**

**Sent: 8:19 pm**

* * *

_**Dear Sk8ter Girl,**_

_Whoa! You weren't kidding, huh? __**Sk8ter Girl + Skittles = Bad Idea.**__ Ha, ha. Chemistry Humor! ;)_

_Man, I think your partner needs to fucking chillax. He sounds like a pain in the ass! Who would believe __**you're**__ into drugs? …What? Don't look at __**me!**__ I've said nothing 'bout Marijuana! No proof, I believe you said. LOL Tell him to take two Chill Pills and fuck off! It'll work wonders. Believe me! Like I said last time, Mom is a nurse and works 'round the clock at Hope's Hospital. She knows her shit._

_P.S. You're a real pervert…_

_**Sincerely,**_

_**Hothead**_

* * *

Amused, Paul smirked down at his handiwork, pleased with the results, and then hesitantly clicked SEND. He'd reread through his message, making certain that it did not have too many errors, and only had to correct two words. It still bothered him to send something so permanent to another person. Like Sk8ter Girl could hold it against him if something came out wrong. He did not want that to happen – did not think it would, either – but wanted to be prepared in the case someone else decided to stab him in the back.

Like Jared…

Howls filled the air. Paul stared out the window at the sound of his Pack Brothers running through the night, their howls filling the night with the sense of protection, friends, and family – of belonging. Where did Paul belong? A sigh escaped from between his lips. Nowhere, apparently, because no one in the Pack wanted him to join in the Hunt…

**CHIME!**

**Chat with Sk8ter Girl? :)**

Paul smiled and clicked YES.

* * *

**Chat Room: Sk!ttl3S**

**Time In: 10:10 pm**

**Users: 2**

* * *

**Sk8ter Girl: **Yo! Loved the email.

**Hothead: **Hey! Thnx. Thought it might make you smile. :)

**Sk8ter Girl: **It did! So what's new? :)

**Hothead: **Just finished cooking dinner.

**Sk8ter Girl: ***Grin* A man of talent! Me likey. ;)

**Sk8ter Girl:** Lemme rephrase, then! What's cookin', Good Lookin'?

**Hothead: ***Rolls Eyes* Ha, ha, ha! Hamburgers. What's shakin', Bacon?

**Sk8ter Girl: **Oi! Callin' people fat, Dude? ;P

**Hothead: **…is there even an answer to that question that won't end badly for me?

**Sk8ter Girl: **Option A) Doom

**Sk8ter Girl: **Option B) Death

**Sk8ter Girl: **Option C) Despair

**Sk8ter Girl: **NOPE!

**Hothead: **U R 2 Funny

**Sk8ter Girl: **Gah! Text Speak! _IT_ _**BURNS!**_

**Hothead: ***Smirks* U R So WRD

**Sk8ter Girl: ***Faints*

**Hothead: **LOL

**Sk8ter Girl: **:)

**Hothead: **Gotta question for you.

**Sk8ter Girl: **Yeah? Fire away! Hit Me With Your Best Shot! ;)

**Hothead: ***Rolls Eyes* Okay, Pat Benatar. Answer my questions from earlier? Why didn't you answer 'em, anyway?

**Sk8ter Girl: **You originally said, "Question…"

**Hothead: **Still ignoring 'em, huh? Fine, I'll only ask one. :P

**Sk8ter Girl: **Oh, oh! Twenty Questions? :3

**Hothead: **Sure. My Q: R U A Daddy's Girl or a Momma's Girl?

**Sk8ter Girl: **Well, I guess it would have to be the 2nd. Although Daddy isn't around much, Mom isn't…uh, living with us…anymore.

**Hothead: **Oh. Oh! Shit! I'm sorry. Didn't think that through…

**Hothead: **Divorced?

**Sk8ter Girl: **Nah. It's cool. Daddy is in the military, though, if you're curious. Your Mom is a nurse, right? Pretty awesome and selfless! :)

**Hothead: **She is pretty cool. Awful cook, though. That's why **I** cook!

**Sk8ter Girl: **Don't wanna die?

**Hothead: **No! I'm too sexy! BD

**Sk8ter Girl: **BWHAHAHA!

**Hothead: **IT'S TRUE! :)

**Sk8ter Girl: **Right…

**Hothead: **You're just jealous.

**Sk8ter Girl: **Yep! ;D

**Hothead: **Why? Betcha you're really cute. ;)

**Sk8ter Girl: ***Rolls Eyes* Back to sexually harassing me?

**Sk8ter Girl: **Pervert! LOL

**Hothead: **Ha Fucking Ha. Just answer…

**Sk8ter Girl: ***Shrug* I don't really know. My self esteem is pretty low, if you'd not noticed.

**Hothead: **You know what? Don't think it really matters. You sound cool, you're sweet, and everything you've said pretty much makes me smile and laugh. You're cute on the inside. :)

**Sk8ter Girl: **Awww! I was _sooooooo_ right!

**Hothead: ***Confused* About what?

**Sk8ter Girl: **You really _are_ a sweetheart under all that muscle. You big ol' softie! ;)

**Hothead: **So you really DO know who I am, then?

**Sk8ter Girl: **Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows? ;)

**Hothead: **Tease…

**Sk8ter Girl: **Strip!

**Hothead: **Please and Thnx ;)

**Sk8ter Girl: ***Sigh* Shoulda seen that comin'! -_-;

**Hothead: ***Smirk* Keep it up and you're going to see _me_ cummin', Honey

**Sk8ter Girl: **O_o Scary…

**Hothead: **I try.

**Hothead: **Hey, I hear my mom coming home. I'll TTYL?

**Sk8ter Girl: **You'll WHAT?

**Hothead: **Translation…_Talk To You Later_

**Sk8ter Girl: **Oh. My bad! LOL

**Sk8ter Girl: **'k! Night. ;)

**Hothead: **Night! :)

* * *

**Time Out: 1:08 am**

* * *

"I'm home, Paul…!"

"Hey, Mom," Paul said, smiling gently when the word filled his chest with warmth. He leaned back in his chair and hugged his mom around her stout middle, pulling the shorter woman into his chest and holding her carefully, almost cradling her. "You have a rough night?"

"Yeah," Mrs. Lahote responded with her usual laugh, instead of sighing like most women might after dealing with sick children and worried parents for twelve straight hours, "but I enjoyed being there to help out."

"I'm glad," Paul answered, smiling, and then moved toward the refrigerator, pulling out her plate of leftovers without further ado. He removed the plastic wrap, ripping through it with his longer than average nails, and tossed it in the microwave, pushing various buttons to warm it up. When it finished, Paul carefully placed the plate in front of his mother. She smiled gratefully at her son.

"This is delicious!" Mrs. Lahote complimented sincerely, before smiling when Paul blushed lightly and brushed his hand through his dark hair, embarrassed with the praise. "You really should consider going to Culinary School, Paul."

"Maybe I will," Paul grunted lowly and heaved himself into his favorite armchair, flipping through the channels for something to watch. Football sounded good…

"Who were you talking to earlier, Sweetie?" Mrs. Lahote asked after another couple of minutes, brushing her napkin against her mouth to rid it of crumbs.

He paused in consideration, searched his thoughts, and then smiled at the truth in that one word.

"A friend …"

* * *

***Author's Note***

**_Thanks for the reviews and such!_** Some people didn't mind the Chat Feature that I wanted to add; thus, it is included in this chapter! ;)

**PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!** I feel like I need to **drop this story** because I fear that no one really likes the portrayal of Paul. _So **PLEASE** let me know if I need to change something, add something, explain something, or address something in the future. _

**In your review, PLEASE answer these questions:**

**Question 1: ** What do you think of Paul? Of Sammy?

**Question 2:** Do you want **PAUL** and **SAMMY** to **MEET Face-To-Face** in the **next chapter?** **_YES_ **or **_NO_**?

**THANKS AGAIN!** _Update at **27 reviews.** _ Why 27? Just 'cuz! ;)


	6. Chapter 5: Jared the Jerk

~Chapter Five~

Jared the Jerk

_Where I've Been…  
Well, It's All A Blur.  
What I Was Looking For,  
I'm Not Sure._

_And Then, I Crashed Into You,  
And I Went Up In Flames.  
You Will Consume Me,  
But I Can't Walk Away. _

_You Saved Me._

~_Crashed, _by Daughtry

Disclaimer: Me No Own; You No Sue.

* * *

**Paul's P.O.V.**

* * *

_Today,_ Paul smirked, _is Friday!_

Thank Taka Ahi for small miracles because Paul could not have made it out of his bed, let alone to school earlier this morning, without knowing it to be the last day of the week. All of this shit with the Pack was very wearisome. Yeah, yeah, yeah! Quarter Word for Paul! He blamed Sk8terGirl, who was pretty much the Walking Talking Dictionary of Doom, for his new vocabulary. Her words, too! Not his!

Speaking of, well,_ not_ speaking, Paul'd also been forced to suffer in silence. He could not talk to his Mom, could not talk to the Pack, and could definitely not talk to _Jared Cameron_, who pretty much hated his guts. Running into Jacob, Embry, and Quil made that – and also everything else – more real, almost tangible. Their comments, while true, still made it hard for Paul to think or see straight through his blinding rage. Sure, Paul had admittedly responded with just as much hot fury, sarcasm, and hatred, but it still hurt to hear that sort of thing from his Pack Brothers. He wasn't used to his friends treating him like dirt – er, worse than dirt, actually. More like manure…

"At least manure is useful," Paul grimly muttered to himself, before slumping forward, sticking his hands in his pockets, and kicking at the empty soda can in front of his large sneakers.

_Sure, Paul! _His Inner Voice – his Wolf, maybe – dryly said. _At the end of the day, however, manure is still __**shit.**_

_Thanks for that bit of wisdom…_

_You're welcome!_

Noting that talking to himself _might_ not be the healthiest alternative to having friends, Paul cleared his head by shaking it forcefully. He raked his left hand through his dark black hair and loped down the relatively empty hallways, toward the Science Wing. Several tall, pretty teenage girls giggled when Paul passed by, and his walk turned into a smug strut, his chest puffed out and shoulders straight. A smirk pulled his sensual lips up. At least _somebody _still liked him! Girls that appreciated his (yes, amazingly hot) looks and wanted to date him (uh, fuck his brains out) counted, right? Sort of…

BUZZ! New Message.

* * *

**To: Paul**

**Sent: 2:36 pm **

**Are you okay, Paul?**

* * *

His heart filled with affection for the wonderful lady that raised him by herself, and without help from anyone else – not his sweet but aging grandparents and _definitely _not his deadbeat father, who booked it the moment his mom announced her pregnancy. Paul smiled gently at the thought of his mom, who loved him, temper and all, and responded quickly to this text. Long fingers moved quickly over the glowing keypad to answer in the affirmative and then ask her his question.

* * *

**To: Mom**

**Sent: 2:38 pm **

**Yeah, I'm fine. U want NEthing specific for dinner, Mom? I wanted to make chili, but i the mood for sumthing else…**

* * *

BEEP!

* * *

**To: Paul**

**Sent: 2:41 pm **

**Chili sounds lovely! Could I persuade you to add cheddar cheese/sour cream? Please and thank you!**

* * *

BEEP!

* * *

**To: Mom**

**Sent: 2:43 pm **

**Yeah. It'll B ready when U R home. What time is UR shift done?**

* * *

BEEP! He frowned; Paul hoped it wouldn't be too late this time. She needed to rest more…

* * *

**To: Paul**

**Sent: 2:44 pm **

**Done 10. Be home 10:30! Love you! 3**

* * *

BEEP! He smiled, both in relief and in mild embarrassment – if anybody found his phone and read through his texts…

* * *

**To: Mom**

**Sent: 2:45 pm **

**Love U 2 **

* * *

"Damn!" A low voice, painfully familiar and simultaneously infuriating beyond all reasonable doubt, kicked something aside and griped, "I can't fucking **stand** that I have to deal with that girl…"

"You_ did_ trick Mr. Anno into making her your partner, Dude." An unknown voice dryly pointed out to – Paul growled softly beneath his breath – _Jared_. "You can't exactly _complain_ when it's what you wanted in the first place!"

Sneaking to the corner, using his supernatural instincts to creep much closer, Paul listened in to Jared and his friend, unashamedly eavesdropping. He did **not** feel guilt; however, Paul** did** feel somewhat sheepish, his mind thinking of his Mom because of their recent texting to each other. _If Mom saw me now, well, I'd be deaf pretty quick. My ears wouldn't be eavesdropping, either. They'd be in her hands, and I'd have 'em boxed! Ugh…_

"Ha! Watch me," Jared muttered in disagreement, before the Shifter smirked wickedly at his shorter, human classmate and carelessly explained, "You _know_ her, Ree. She's short, and fat, and _weird_. A Pale Face, too!"

With every word that escaped from his mouth, Paul seemed to tremble with fury, to shake with this almost overwhelming need to punch something – preferably Jared, but Paul wasn't going to be picky. Letting his familiar fury fade beneath the odd buzzing of his heart, which whispered to protect _her_ and not to hurt _him,_ Paul smirked darkly, ignoring his confusion at his sudden mood swings and the need to protect, rather than fight. Yeah, Paul could punch his little friend, too. Guilty by association! Fair game, fresh meat, and all that shit…

"Gotta hand it to her, though," Ree – probably Zachary Lightfoot – thoughtfully mused. "She's incredibly smart. Not only in AP Chemistry, but in everything! Girl's in AP History, AP English V, AP Calculus, AP Art, and – get _this_ – AP Shop!"

_Okay, _Paul grudgingly admitted, feeling strangely appeased by his rather complimentary words, and rolled his onyx eyes. _Maybe his friend is an okay sorta guy…_

"Stalking Ms. Steel, Ree?" Jared sarcastically retorted, his lips pulled into a sneer and his arms crossed to hide his frustration, though not very well. "Maybe I should just introduce you and then you could get married to her – whammy, bammy, thanks, Sammy!"

"Fuck you!" Ree snapped out through gritted teeth, his brown eyes narrowed in distasted, and added, "You know I prefer my girls to be little taller, little skinner…" He shrugged rather carelessly. "Native, you know?" Smirk. "Like Kim…"

"Back off, Zachary," Jared gritted out his entire name and scowled at the other teenager, pushing at his shoulder with his fist, puffing his chest out, and smirking smugly. "Kim's _mine._"

"Whatever," Ree said, clearly amused, and waved this declaration off without a care. He clapped Jared twice on the shoulder and then started to walk off, hands in his jeans pockets. "Well, I gotta hurry and get to PreCal. If I'm late again, Mrs. V is going to kick my ass…"

"Later, Dude," Jared called, lifting his hand at his retreating friend. He turned around, probably intending to walk back down the hall, but stopped short to smirk down at the sight of something – or someone. "Well, well, well. Speak of the Ugly Duckling, and Sammy Steel will show up."

Intrigued by this sudden arrival, Paul edged closer. Onyx swiftly darted from his oldest friend, his Pack Brother, and to the shorter teenager facing him. Eyes wide, Paul blinked and stared at the small girl from yesterday, the one who'd practically mowed him and the Three Stooges over in her haste to get to class. She fit Jared's description to a tee – short, heavier, and (Paul could not resist smirking)_ curvier_ than most girls their age, with incredibly white skin. While not beautiful, Sammy could be considered somewhat pretty.

A Pale Face, her honey freckles seemed to stand out more than usual, given that the girl – _Sammy Steel, _his mind helpfully provided – had paled several shades when Jared turned his attention to her. Paul frowned; Sammy looked positively terrified which, oddly enough, really bugged him. It made his heart hurt, and Paul rubbed at his chest, eyes narrowed in irritation. Fucking Jared needed to keep his hands to himself!

"Hi, Jared," Sammy quietly said, her big blue eyes shifting from his face to her neon yellow sneakers. She nervously tugged at her old shirt – black, with a grinning yellow dinosaur – and shifted her jean clad legs, her fingers tightening around the strap of her old Pokémon backpack. Eccentric; Paul could tell without the need for further inspection. "Do you need something?"

"Yeah," Jared said, just as quietly, and Paul tensed because this was pretty much the voice Jared used before (trying to) beat the shit out of him. "I need for _you_ to do all the work in Chem. Lab, and keep your mouth shut about it, too." He roughly shoved her against the red lockers, letting her small body bang against the metal, and laughed at her wince of pain. His face in hers, Jared postured like the stereotypical dumb bully and growled, "Understand, Pale Face?"

Silence, then –

"No, Kemosabe," Sammy muttered the nasty insult, breathing in through her nose and steeling herself to sarcastically explain, "See, I don't really speak Indian Brave, so…"

Annoyed, Jared snarled quietly in her face, clearly pissed at the racist comment, the hypocrite. He knew that Jared attempted to frighten the girl with this action – Paul only thought _attempted, _however, because Sammy raised her eyes and stared defiantly at her attacker. Something in her expression made the other teenager falter, his snarl lowering into a confused frown. Jared did not back off, but instead cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at her, looking like a puppy trying to figure something – her – out. Surprisingly, Sammy continued to glare right back at him, a strong, stubborn challenge glittering in her blue eyes.

That, Paul grimly realized, would be her mistake.

"Know your place, Steel!" Jared snapped at her, furious with the challenge. His Wolf, usually calm and less temperamental than the others, rushed to the surface, another snarl of fury in place at her defiance. "It's –"

"Yes, I know, I know –" Interrupting him, Sammy pretended to examine her nails, which had been bitten to the quick, and then rudely quipped, "– above you and all the rest of the Steroid Shitheads?"

More silence, then a gigantic fist – at least, gigantic for _her_ – flashed towards Sammy. Blue eyes wide, Sammy ducked, letting his knuckles slam into the metal door of the red locker behind her head. She slowly turned around to stare, wide eyed and openmouthed, at the large dent in the previously straight and pristine metal. Sammy seemed to pale further, if possible, and slowly turned back around to face Jared, somehow still standing her ground through her shaking legs, pounding heart, and shock.

A series of tremors slipped down her bare forearms, making the light hair stand at attention. He could smell her fear and watched her chest (just the right size for his hands, Paul absently noted) heave with the force of her short, frightened breaths. Then, Sammy turned, desperately stared behind Jared for help, and noticed Paul. Her eyes widened, filled with relief at the sight of this other teenager, and Paul stiffened, his entire body feeling like it had been suddenly set ablaze. Something within him shifted, like his world just rearranged itself without warning, like his world had been in a million pieces before and it was now complete again, because of her.

He…Paul Lahote…imprinted.

* * *

***Author's Note***

**Yay!** Paul and Sammy officially "met." This might not be what you're expecting, but worry not! It will not all be smooth sailing, though this is supposed to be humorous. There will be **trouble** soon enough because Paul is, oddly enough, disappointed that his Imprint is not Sk8terGirl - at least, not to his knowledge.

**Question(s): **What do you think is going to happen when Paul loses his temper? Do you want him to be typical Paul and explode with anger? How should Sammy react? I pretty much have it planned out, but I want to hear your thoughts and, if possible, include them. :)

**Up next!** _**Paul loses his temper, and Mr. Anno makes another appearance!**_

**Thanks for the awesome reviews, favorites, and feedback! **It makes me more comfortable with continuing. Less stupid, too! So please** read and review **again!

**_Update at 35 to 38 reviews?_**


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